Always the Tone of Surprise
by WeasleySeeker
Summary: A collection of unrelated Ron/Hermione drabbles and one-shots for various challenges on HPFC - some angsty, some fluffy, some funny. Enjoy! xvii: Flying Lessons
1. Mistake

**i: Mistake**

Hermione perched on the edge of the fountain, restlessly twirling the ring around her finger. She tried not to look at it, to keep it out of sight, but wherever she looked it seemed to be somewhere in her peripheral vision, assaulting her eyes. It didn't look like her hand any more. It was a foreign object; garish, impersonal. She couldn't get used to the sight of it.

The party was still going on inside, but it had been several hours since it began and everyone had lost interest in the happy couple and gone to sit down with their particular friends. Ian, Hermione's boyfriend - fiancé, she supposed - was so drunk that he wouldn't realise if Hermione went missing for a few minutes to clear her head. His friends were dealing with him.

He'd sprung it on her. The party was a complete surprise - Ian had told her that they were going to a very posh restaurant, and to dress nicely. The last thing she'd been expecting was to turn into this huge, castle-like stately home. He'd looked at her expectantly, waiting for a comment, and she'd said something like, "It's lovely, Ian, but what are we doing here?" Looking back on it, Hermione realised that he'd probably expected a more radical reaction; he'd probably thought that somewhere like this would be the place of her dreams. Hermione had told him in the past that she loved castles. The truth was that she loved castles because they reminded her of Hogwarts, the time that she longed for again right then.

Then they'd entered the hall, and Hermione had seen the guests and the banners and the confetti and the streamers and he'd proposed to her, there and then, in front of what looked like everyone she'd ever known. She could hardly have said no.

She wasn't even sure she _wanted_ to say no. It was just that she hadn't thought it through, and it was against Hermione Granger's moral code to make a decision without thinking about it first. She loved Ian, of course, otherwise how would they have got this far? But, thinking about it, she wasn't even sure of that. If she loved him, then why did the idea of marrying him feel so wrong? What was it even supposed to feel like, to be in love? Because it didn't feel like last time. _No_, she told herself firmly. _Last time wasn't the same. Things are different now_.

She closed her eyes and felt herself drifting into a sea of memories, and when she opened them again and saw the same face in front of her that had been swimming in her head seconds before, she was certain that she was hallucinating. But she wasn't.

"Ron," she said in surprise. She hadn't even noticed him amongst all the people flooding the hall. It was surprising that Ian had even invited him, given their history.

"Hi," Ron said casually, sitting down next to her. Hermione couldn't even remember the last time she'd seen him. In fact, she wasn't even sure if they had met since they split up. "Stuffy in there, isn't it," he commented.

"Uh... yeah," Hermione agreed, not quite sure what else to say. She fiddled with the ring again. It was very distracting.

"So. How is... everything?" Ron asked awkwardly.

"Fine," she said, even though it really wasn't. But Ron was not the person to be discussing this with.

"You're marrying Ian." It was a statement, not a question. If he had learnt anything from their relationship, Ron had learnt not to question Hermione's decisions.

"I... yes."

Ron looked surprised. "You don't seem sure," he guessed. Accurately. "So that whole thing in there, it wasn't staged? You really didn't know he was going to ask you?"

"No, I had no idea," Hermione told him truthfully. "But don't be silly, Ron, of course I'm sure!" She didn't know why she lied about the last part. She supposed some part of her subconscious wanted her to show Ron that she had moved on from him, that she was fine without him. She couldn't quite admit it to herself, but that wasn't quite true.

Ron shook his head. "No, you're not. That's the face you use when you're fighting with yourself. I know you, Hermione, and I don't think you should marry Ian."

"You don't know me any more," Hermione snapped, wounded. Why did he think he had the right to say that to her?

"Yes I do," Ron retorted. "There are some things about a person that never change." He looked at her sadly.

"Well, I _have_ changed," she insisted, "and it's none of your business who I do or don't marry. You're ruining this for me, Ron Weasley, and if this is some sort of sick way to try and _win me back_ -"

"It's not," he said, to Hermione's relief. "I still love you, Hermione, and you know that I always will, but I know that you left me for a reason. If it was two months ago, maybe I would try and get you back. But it's been three years, and you've moved on."

Ron's maturity still amazed Hermione. She shook herself, remembering why she'd left him. He was a symbol of her childhood, and she'd wanted to get past how she'd been in her Hogwarts years. She'd had enough of all the publicity they'd got after the Battle, and it was preventing anyone from taking her seriously, and she'd _wanted_ that high-flying career. She'd outgrown him. (It sounded so pretentious, looking back.) And their relationship had gone stale. (But maybe that was her fault. She had really needed to reshuffle her priorities.) "I... I appreciate that, Ron," she said graciously.

"That doesn't mean that I won't always consider letting you go as the worst mistake of my life, though," he said softly. One of Hermione's curls had separated from the loose bun that she'd fashioned at the back of her head. Ron pushed it behind her ear tenderly.

Pulling away sharply as she glanced back up at the party, Hermione went red and started fiddling with her ring again. "Well, let's not talk about that."

"Sorry," said Ron apologetically. "I needed to say it."

There was an awkward silence. Hermione reached out behind her and brushed her fingertip against the surface of the water, watching the ripples intently so as to have an excuse not to look at Ron. "So if you're not trying to get me back, why do you care if I marry him or not?" she asked finally.

He looked at her incredulously. "Do you really think I'm so much of a selfish git as to only care about that for my own gain?"

Before, the honest answer would have been yes. But that was because since the break-up, Hermione had substituted all her memories of her Ron, sensitive Ron, mature Ron, with images of Lavender's Ron, the Horcrux's Ron, the Ron before the Battle, before he had seemingly had a personality transplant. Now, the real memories, the ones that mattered were coming back to her.

Ron continued. "Even if our relationship didn't work out, I still care about you. We were best friends for ten years. Doesn't that still mean something?"

Hermione's hands had gone back to the ring again, and Ron pulled them apart firmly. "Don't marry Ian," he instructed her. "He's not right for you. He's so... _boring_. Although you met him at work, so I suppose that's expected, in your department," he added, and Hermione should have been angered by this, but in reality she had to suppress a giggle. (It was so true.) "But seriously, Hermione, there's someone out there who's perfect for you, and it's not Ian, and it might not be me, either. But he's out there somewhere."

Hermione didn't say anything for a minute. Then she looked away from the fountain, and looked into Ron's eyes for the first time that day. "It was only ever you, Ron," she said quietly, passionately, and then their lips were joined, and it didn't matter that a few hundred yards away there was a party full of people celebrating Hermione's engagement to another man, it didn't matter that they didn't know who was watching, and it didn't matter that this wasn't supposed to happen, that there would be consequences, because it felt so right, and it was the touch that the two of them had been craving for all those years and the reason why their lives had felt wrong, incomplete, until that very moment.

After what seemed like forever, they broke apart.

Ron was the first to speak. "Well, this... complicates things a little," he said dryly.

Hermione shook her head. "No, it doesn't," she said. "It makes everything simple, clear. I know what I feel now, and I can't marry Ian," she said, taking off the ring and plunging it into the fountain. "Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life. I'm sorry."

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**A/N: This was one of the hardest things I've ever had to write... I found it so hard to split them up, even though I knew they would be getting back together at the end! I am getting a little too obsessed. So it would have been impossible for me to write this without the fluff and the cheese. :)**

**Everything in this collection is for the Your Favourite Couple: Scenarios Challenge/Competition. This oneshot is also for the Titles Challenge - my title was "Mistake".**

**Feel free to point out any mistakes, as I will admit this was a bit rushed because I'm _so_ organised with deadlines and that sort of thing. ;)**

**Disclaimer: I am not, and I never will be, J K Rowling.**


	2. An Argument

**ii: An argument**

"She got ENGAGED?" Ron thundered, his face turning a deep shade of scarlet. "Without telling us first?"

He paced up and down the kitchen, unable to restrain his rage for any longer. He had managed to keep it in when Rose had arrived home sporting the sparkly ring on her finger and the huge grin on her face. He wasn't completely heartless; he hadn't wanted to ruin her ecstasy. But he was _angry_ with her new fiancé. Admittedly, that wasn't exactly unusual. But this time, he was VERY angry.

"Of course she did, Ron," Hermione said scathingly, sitting at the table as she calmly sipped her mug of hot chocolate. "That's the point in being proposed to: it's meant to be a surprise."

Ron didn't seem to have thought of this. "Well - yes - I -" he spluttered, flustered. "What I meant was," he continued, "why did we not even see this coming?"

"_You_ didn't see this coming," Hermione corrected coolly. "It was perfectly obvious to anyone who was looking. You were just in denial."

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded, although deep down, he knew that there was some truth in Hermione's words.

"You know perfectly well what I mean," Hermione snapped. "You've always had it in for Scorpius, just because he's a Malfoy. It's as if you've never even _met_ Scorpius! He isn't Draco, you know, Ron," she told him angrily, and it was clear that these were words that she had been wanting to say for a long time.

"I know that! I may not be as clever as _you_, Hermione," he sneered nastily, "but I'm not thick. You should remember that sometimes." Even after all their years of marriage, that was still a sensitive spot for Ron.

"That's not fair," Hermione protested, hurt. "I'm not implying anything about your intelligence. I'm merely saying that I know you, Ron Weasley, and you hold grudges. But if you just gave him a chance, you'd know that Scorpius is nothing like Draco from when we were at school. He's the sweetest guy, and he's perfect for Rose."

Ron made a sceptical noise. "Aren't people supposed to ask permission from someone's parents before they propose to them?" he asked bitterly.

"That's an old-fashioned idea, Ron," Hermione said dismissively. "Did you ask _my_ parents before proposing to me?"

"Well, no, but... that's different," Ron insisted, although he wasn't quite sure how. "People were _expecting_ us to get married! But with Rose... I had no idea they'd ever get this serious."

There was a deathly silence, and Ron knew he shouldn't have let that particular feeling slip from his mouth.

Then Hermione exploded. "I knew it!" she exclaimed. "Ever since they got together, you've been hoping that they'll split up! That's how it is, isn't it?"

"No!" he exclaimed defensively. "Do you think I don't care at all about my daughter's happiness? Of course I care! It's BECAUSE I care that I'm reacting like this," he added, more quietly this time.

Hermione didn't say anything, but looked at him intently, prompting him to carry on speaking.

Ron sighed. "It's like you said. I hold grudges. When I'm thinking rationally, I know that Scorpius is nothing like Draco was, and even that now, Draco is nothing like he was when we were at school. But sometimes I just find it hard to switch off my overprotective father mentality, you know? It's just my natural instinct to think that he'll hurt Rose, even though I'm pretty sure he won't. It's just... difficult to remember sometimes, that's all," he finished lamely.

Hermione couldn't stay angry with him for long after that. Her expression softened. "I'm sorry," she said. "I overreacted."

"I was a prat, though," Ron admitted, looking guilty, and Hermione laughed.

"You were a bit," she told him unashamedly. "But it's okay." She stood up and kissed him softly, and he couldn't help smiling despite his guilt. "You should probably go upstairs and tell Rose you're happy for her," she said gently. "She probably heard most of this."

Ron nodded. "I will in a minute." He sighed. "I can't believe she's getting _married_," he said in wonder.

"I know," Hermione agreed. "It feels like it was only yesterday when we got married... but it was over twenty years ago."

Ron shook his head disbelievingly. "They grow up so fast."

"Which is why we have to enjoy every moment we can with them," Hermione said gently, and in that moment, Ron resolved always to stand by his daughter's decisions, whatever his feelings about them.

* * *

**A/N: Sloooowly catching up on these scenarios... damn all these angsty prompts! Ah well, there's a nice one up next. :)**


	3. A Nice Thought

**iii: A nice thought**

Turning her key in the door of her flat, Hermione tried to work out why she could smell burning. Surely she was imagining it. Her home was well protected against the risk of fire: in her usual sort of way, Hermione was sure to switch off the few electrical appliances she owned before going to work. So why, as she closed the door behind her and walked down the corridor, was the smell getting stronger?

Hermione reached the end of the hall, opened the kitchen door and, to her horror, was enveloped in a cloud of acrid smoke. Coughing, she drew her wand hastily and cast a non-verbal spell to disperse the smoke, until it all disappeared, revealing a figure in its midst.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, nearly jumping out of her skin. "What are you doing here?"

Instead of saying anything, Ron opened the oven - a fresh cloud of smoke billowed out, revealing whatever was inside. It was unrecognisable; it had literally burnt to a crisp.

"I, er, cooked you dinner," he said, gesturing towards it unnecessarily.

Hermione fought the urge to laugh. It was a lovely thought, but Ron should really have just admitted defeat when it came to cooking. "But... why?" she asked, puzzled. Ron opened his mouth to speak, looking offended, so Hermione added, "Don't get me wrong, it was very... thoughtful of you, but why would you do that for me? And how did you get into my house?" she demanded, as the thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Well, I just haven't seen you much lately, and you seemed really stressed with work and stuff, so I thought I'd surprise you to try and cheer you up," Ron mumbled, his ears turning red. "Didn't turn out brilliantly though, did it?"

Hermione couldn't help snorting, and Ron chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll order a takeaway," she said, smiling. "Thanks, though. It was a lovely idea. But you still haven't answered my second question."

Ron looked at her like she was missing something blatantly obvious. "Hermione, I may not exactly be a culinary god, but I _am_ still a wizard. I don't need a key."

"Oh," Hermione said stupidly. Her brain tended not to work properly when she was around Ron sometimes. "I knew that."

Now it was Ron's turn to snort, and they caught each other's eyes and burst out laughing. "I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too," Hermione grinned, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "And you _always_ cheer me up. But now I'm hungry. I'll go and order that food."

"No, let me do it," Ron protested, catching Hermione's arm and pulling her back as he walked over to the phone. She looked at him, confused. "I want some more practice," he explained. "I think I'm getting good at using that felly-tone..."

* * *

**A/N: OH MY GOD, I WROTE SOMETHING HAPPY. What is this madness? ;) I enjoyed myself, though.**

**This is for the OTP Boot Camp Challenge for prompt one, which is 'acrid'.**


	4. The Beginning and the End

**iv: The beginning and the end**

For a second, she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Ron Weasley, the boy who a few years ago had scoffed at SPEW and been disgusted by Kreacher, stopping in the heat of a battle to consider the safety of the house elves? How was it possible? But, as observations of Ron's behaviour since he'd come back to them flooded over her, she realised that it was perfectly compliant with his recent actions. He really was making an effort.

It was the middle of a battle, they should have been on guard, but her feelings for Ron which had been building up inside her for so long overwhelmed her, surpassing all rational thought. Not even realising she was doing it, she let go of the pile of Basilisk fangs as if they no longer existed and she and Ron were the only people in the world, and she was sprinting towards him...

He looked alarmed, but responded heatedly when he realised what was happening. Hermione gave everything she had; she could feel the passion building inside her, and this was the moment she had been longing for for so long, unrecognisable from her imaginings, but then she had never imagined that kissing him would feel this good.

She was vaguely aware of the fact that they were meant to be looking for the Horcrux, that tonight was where it all ended, when Voldemort would either win or lose, that they might not live through the night and might not even discover the outcome, but that just egged her on even more. Like Ron said, it might be now or never.

But of course it couldn't last forever, and Harry was right - they couldn't ignore the chaos and destruction surrounding them for any longer. The end was near.

However, the thing that kept her going more than anything else throughout the battle was the hope that, for her and Ron, this was just the beginning.

* * *

**A/N: It was only a matter of time before I wrote my take on this scene... ;) For the OTP Boot Camp again, prompt was 'overwhelmed'.**

**Just a general note to everyone because of a question I had in a review: the chapters are in no particular order, it's just the order the challenges came up in. So sorry it's incoherent; they aren't meant to be related anyway.**

**Also, I realise the chapters have been getting shorter and shorter - don't worry, I have a nice big juicy one planned next!**


	5. The Wrong Order

**v: The wrong order**

"Where do we go from here, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up at him suddenly from where she was sitting. "What?" she asked curiously. They were spread out on the grass, basking in the sunlight in the garden of the Burrow, the first chance they'd had to be alone together since the battle.

"You know... it just seems like we're doing everything in the wrong order," Ron commented.

Hermione always did her best, but this was one of those times when she really struggled to follow Ron's thought processes. "I don't know what you mean."

Ron sighed, looking for a way to explain himself. "Well," he began, "we had a bloody fantastic first kiss. I'm not saying I regret that. But... what does that make us now? We haven't been on a date, or done whatever normal couples do. _Are_ we a couple?" he babbled on. "Because I didn't ask you or anything. I'm supposed to, aren't I?"

Hermione smiled to herself; Ron was adorable when he over-thought things. "I don't know. Did you ask Lavender?"

"Well, no," Ron admitted sheepishly, "but that didn't exactly turn out well, did it? I just want to do everything right this time. Don't you want to sort of... rewind? Start from the beginning?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Honestly? No," she said, to Ron's surprise. "I don't want to rewind. I want to carry right on from where we left off," she told him, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Really?" asked Ron, astonished. "But... you're Hermione Granger! You always have to do everything in the right order."

"But maybe the traditional 'right order' isn't the right order for us," she suggested. After all, they'd been dancing around each other for so many years - maybe there was no need to start off slowly.

"You know... I like that," he said, a grin spreading across his face.

"I thought you would," Hermione said, smiling wickedly.

"I need to be sure of something first, though," Ron said thoughtfully, almost to himself.

"You've lost me," Hermione sighed, unable to work out what he could possibly mean.

Ron took a deep breath, apparently trying to decide how to do this. He took the direct approach. "Hermione, will you be my girlfriend?"

Hermione couldn't help laughing; he tried so hard, but he really had just made it sound like they were eleven-year-olds again. "You, Ron Weasley, are utterly ridiculous," she declared, and his face fell. "But how could I possibly say no?"

* * *

**A/N: I think it's slightly ironic that this whole collection is in the wrong order, yet this story follows on seamlessly from the last... XD**

**This wasn't actually what I planned to write next, because I wanted to write something happy instead. :)**

**This is for the Your Favourite Couples Challenge (prompt: your couple discuss their future) and the OTP Boot Camp Challenge (prompt: ridiculous).**


	6. Storm

**vi: Storm**

The thunder rumbled outside and they could hear the rain falling in sheets against the outside of the tent. The now familiar empty feeling was there in Ron's stomach, and even Hermione's signature blue flames were doing nothing to raise his body temperature.

A flash of lightening illuminated the tent and Ron saw Hermione flinch. "I'm scared," she whispered, drawing closer to Ron so that their arms were touching, and Ron felt his heart rate increase from the proximity.

"Hey... it'll be okay," Ron told her, patting her arm awkwardly. "It's just a storm; it'll pass."

Hermione shook her head, smiling despite her worry. "I didn't mean that. I meant Harry. He's been gone for hours."

"Oh," Ron said stupidly. Now that he thought about it, Hermione was the last person he would expect to be afraid of thunderstorms. "Well... he'll be fine. He always is. Probably still looking for food. It's hard to find out here."

"Probably," Hermione agreed, but she didn't look particularly reassured. She shuffled up so she was closer still and leant her head on Ron's shoulder, words no longer needed.

The tent might have gone quiet, but Ron's thoughts were buzzing - this was unfamiliar body language. He couldn't help wondering what it would be like if his and Harry's positions were reversed. Would Hermione be fretting this much if it was Ron outside in the storm? Would she look to Harry for comfort? Were their interactions different just because he'd caught her in a moment of insecurity, or was this something else? Did she have feelings for him, too?

He simply didn't know.

* * *

**A/N: I feel like I'm saying this on all my fics, I'm so bad at updating - sorry for the wait! This one's for the prompt "thunder" in the OTP Boot Camp, and "a moment between your couple before they were a couple" for the Your Favourite Couple Challenge.**

**By the way, the reason why many of these are set during the books is because I don't want to use up ideas that could be used somewhere in my two Romione multichaps, in case you were wondering. When those are done, this should be a lot more diverse. :)**


	7. Back on Track

**vii: Back on track**

The radio blared, but Ron wasn't really listening to Lee Jordan's idle chatter – it was mostly things Bill had told him before, anyway. No, Ron was only interested in the list of the dead and missing. Though he dreaded it, he kind of wanted to get it over with at the same time. Sometimes it was just good to know, so that he could stop worrying. Worrying was pointless; it wouldn't change anything.

Still, he couldn't help wondering how he'd react if he heard his family's names. He knew Bill was okay, but what about Mum, Dad, Fred, George, Ginny, Charlie... or even Percy? It would just feel so wrong, be so hard to take in... it would be like having a missing limb, a hole in his life that could never quite be filled again.

Harry or Hermione, on the other hand... he thought the guilt would just rip him apart. The thought that they could have been caught by the Death Eaters, and Ron wouldn't have been there to at least attempt to stop it, was literally painful. Hermione... he'd had some confusing feelings towards her over the years, but now he was pretty sure that he loved her. And she was so insignificant to the Death Eaters that if they caught her, she'd be dead within the hour. The sickening thought made Ron wish more than ever that he could turn back the clocks and never storm out of the tent that night. And Harry was the best friend he'd ever had, but not only that - he was their only hope of finally ending this war. You-Know-Who would want to parade Harry's capture, to let everyone know who was in charge. And when that was clear, he would be unstoppable. Life would never be the same again.

Finally, the reel of names began, and Ron hardly dared to breathe. They passed the 'g's and the 'p's, and it seemed like an eternity, but eventually they reached the 'w's, and no Weasleys were mentioned.

Ron exhaled; he could relax for another day. He looked out of the window. It was very early on Christmas morning, and the sky was just beginning to lighten. They didn't have snow at Shell Cottage this year, and Ron was kind of glad; it would have brought back all sorts of painful memories of Christmas at Hogwarts. Waking up to a huge pile of presents on the end of his bed, stuffing himself full of Christmas dinner, snowball fights with Harry, Hermione and the twins... it was like a different world.

This year, Christmas would just be like any other day, or maybe even _worse_ than any other day – Bill and Fleur were going to have dinner with Mum and Dad, and clearly Ron couldn't go with them, since his parents still believed he was on the run with the other two. So he'd be spending Christmas Day on his own, just like he'd been spending every other day since he arrived, as Bill and Fleur had to go to work.

Ron felt lost. Bill and Fleur had been wonderful – when Ron had arrived, Bill had been so disappointed in him that they'd barely spoken for a few days, but they'd got over that, and both of them had said that Ron could stay for as long as he needed. However, Ron didn't feel like he could impose himself on them for much longer. They'd just got married, for Merlin's sake, and they'd bought their first house together – they can't have wanted Ron in the middle of it. And besides, his new, monotonous life was going nowhere. Every day was the same, and Ron couldn't see that changing any time soon.

He'd had days when he'd felt like that when they were on the run, and the feelings only increased when he was under the Horcrux's influence. But then there had been Hermione. She was his hope, his light in the midst of darkness, and without her, he sometimes felt he couldn't go on.

The guilt came washing back over him. Here he was, sitting around feeling sorry for himself, while Harry and Hermione were hunting out the Horcruxes which would eventually lead to the death of Lord Voldemort, and the restoration of the Wizarding world to its former glory. How could he have left them?

Suddenly, he heard a name that definitely wasn't a part of the list on the radio.

"Ron."

He jumped – he hadn't thought that Fleur would be up yet.

"Yes?" he replied. When there was no further response, he crossed the room to open the door, but there was nobody there. How odd. He tiptoed down the hall to the master bedroom, and the snores of its occupants were clearly audible.

He made it back to the guest room and was on the verge of dismissing the voice as his imagination when he heard it again.

"Ron."

Unless he was very much mistaken, somehow the voice was coming from inside his pocket. And what's more, it definitely wasn't Fleur's voice.

"Hermione?" he asked in disbelief, as he withdrew the only thing that was in his pocket: the Deluminator.

The voice continued speaking, but Ron was unable to register what it had said; _he'd just heard Hermione's voice_. His heart went wild – she hadn't come here looking for him, had she? Impossible. And what did the Deluminator have to do with it? He was certain it bore some significance.

He clicked it experimentally, and sure enough, that was exactly the right thing to do.

The guest room was plunged into darkness, and an otherworldly blue light illuminated the garden. Somehow, and he didn't know why, Ron knew that the pulsing light would lead him to Hermione.

Hardly able to contain his excitement, Ron gathered his few worldly possessions and shoved them into his rucksack. He took one final look around the room and hurried down to the garden, direction in his life for the first time in months.

* * *

**A/N: I've been wanting to write this for a while, but I've been lacking in inspiration lately so I'm glad I finally managed to get this published! I hope you liked it, despite the shortage of Romioneness.**

**This is for the prompt "lost" on the OTP Boot Camp, and also Track Cycling on the 2012 Hogwarts Games.**


	8. Of Candyfloss and Carousels

**viii: Of candyfloss and carousels**

"Where's that music coming from?" Ron asked, his head tilting towards it. Hermione had booked them into a Muggle restaurant to celebrate their anniversary and obviously they couldn't just Apparate straight in there, so they were walking down the high street to get there. The shops had shut about an hour ago, so not many people were around, but the thing that had piqued Ron's curiosity was pop music blaring from speakers, sounding as though it was coming from a couple of streets away.

"Oh, there's a funfair in town - it'll be music from the fast rides," Hermione told him, checking her watch impatiently. "Come on, walk faster - they'll give our table away to somebody else if we don't hurry."

"Ooh, a Muggle funfair!" Ron exclaimed, ignoring her second comment, and his eyes lit up. "Dad took me and the twins to one of them when we were little. It was so cool! Can we go, Hermione?" he almost begged.

"What, now?" Hermione asked in surprise. "Of course not, Ron - we've booked this table, haven't we? I paid for it."

"Oh, yeah," Ron said, sounding disappointed.

"And we're hardly dressed appropriately," she laughed, gesturing at her dress and heels. "We're much too old for funfairs, anyway."

The restaurant was lovely - expensive, but worth it. The food and wine were of good quality, and the service was excellent; the staff were polite and the food came quickly. Hermione was almost reluctant to leave. She told Ron this as they exited, and he agreed almost half-heartedly. He'd been subdued all meal, now that Hermione thought of it.

She gave him an odd look.

"What?" he demanded.

"You really wanted to go to the funfair, didn't you?" Hermione asked, suppressing a smile.

"Don't laugh at me. Yes," he admitted, and Hermione ignored his request and burst out laughing. Ron joined in sheepishly.

"You're like a little kid, Ron Weasley," she told him, unable to resist kissing him. Suddenly, she had a thought. She checked her watch. "You know, we could still go. It's not quite dark yet. It'll still be open for another hour or so."

"Really?" Ron exclaimed, beaming. "But you said-"

"I know, but you know what? You're only young once, and we don't have grey hairs yet, so let's do it," Hermione declared.

Ron blinked. "Wow. How much wine did you have?"

"No more than you did, you git," she said, shoving him playfully. "Do you want to do this or not?"

"Of course I do!" Ron said excitedly, and his face lit up as they neared the source of the music.

Hermione smiled too as the fair came into sight - it was like Ron's heaven. In front of the backdrop of flashing lights and bright colours, food vans of all shapes and sizes lined the entrance to the square, some selling hot and greasy chips, some selling freshly baked doughnuts and others selling sweets of every variety. Ron made straight for the nearest burger van.

"Ron!" Hermione scolded him before he reached it. "We've only just had dinner. And a very expensive one at that," she added. "How on Earth can you be hungry again?"

"It's a talent," he said, grinning.

Hermione snorted, but waited in the line with him while he ordered and only failed to refrain from rolling her eyes when he was fumbling with the Muggle money to pay for it.

"Sorry," he said through a mouthful of burger after he'd been served. "It's just so confusing! Why can't everyone have the same money?"

"Once you're used to it, it'll make a whole lot more sense than wizard money," Hermione told him, laughing.

"Well I know I'll never get used to it," Ron declared. Hermione knew this was probably true; if Ron didn't deem something worth learning, he didn't take the trouble to learn it. "And it looks so weird. Why the jagged edges?" he demanded, holding up a fifty pence piece.

"I don't know, do I?" Hermione said, laughing. "I don't design it."

"But Hermione, I thought you were supposed to know everything," Ron teased, and Hermione made a face at him. "Sure you don't want any food?" he asked.

She nodded. "I can't stomach anything else. Although... maybe I'll get some of that," she said, as they passed a candyfloss vendor. "Dad always used to buy it for me at the fair - it was the only time I was ever allowed sugary food."

"What is it?" Ron asked.

"Candyfloss."

"Isn't that what Muggles use to clean their teeth?" he asked, confused.

Hermione snorted. "That's _tooth_ floss, you idiot. Your teeth would rot pretty quickly if you used this to clean them - it's basically pure sugar."

"Oh," Ron said stupidly as Hermione paid the vendor.

"Try some if you want," she offered, holding the stick out to Ron.

He eyed the pink fluff uncertainly. "It looks like a Pygmy Puff," he commented. Hermione supposed that, growing up with Fred and George, Ron had learnt to distrust novelty ideas.

"It doesn't taste like one," she assured him. "Not that I've eaten one," she said hurriedly. "But the taste is perfectly innocent, I promise. Go on."

Ron tore off a clump and tried it. Hermione almost burst out laughing at the look of utter surprise on his face when it had clearly dissolved in his mouth.

"Like it?" she asked.

"Well it doesn't taste bad, but I just don't get the appeal," Ron said, screwing his face up. "It's kind of disappointing, isn't it? I mean, why would you want something to look bigger than it actually is? I'd rather have just as much food as I expected."

Hermione laughed. "All right, Ron. It's just a bit of childish fun." As they were eating, they moved up to where the rides were, and the music was blaring out so loudly that they had to shout to be heard over it. "So, rides?" Hermione asked.

"This certainly isn't how I remember the funfair being," Ron shouted, gesturing not only at the music, but at the fast and flashy rides.

"You probably went to one of the kiddie ones," she told him. "So what do you want to go on?" she asked as they kept walking and browsed.

"Well... I don't suppose you want to go on that one?" Ron asked teasingly, pointing towards a ride three times the size of a neighbouring tree, which flung the passengers up in the air far too fast. He knew that Hermione had never been a fan of flying.

"Hardly. People have broken their necks on those, Ron," she told him disapprovingly.

"_Wizards_ haven't," Ron argued, "but never mind. I was only joking anyway."

"Well in that case, I don't suppose _you_ want to go on _that_ one," Hermione retorted, pointing at the ghost train, which had a gigantic hairy spider over the entrance, which was clearly made of plastic, but it made Ron shudder all the same.

"Not, really, no," he admitted, grinning sheepishly. They caught each other's eyes and laughed.

"We're both complete wimps, aren't we," Hermione giggled. "How about the carousel? You can't go wrong with the carousel."

"Definitely not," Ron agreed, and as they whizzed round and round on their magnificent golden horses, listening to the music tinkling, Hermione decided that there was no way she would rather have spent her anniversary.

* * *

**A/N: Hehe I really needed to write some fluff after that last chapter :P Written for the prompt "merry-go-round" on the Pairing Diversity Boot Camp (I changed it to carousel because alliteration :P) and "young" on the OTP Boot Camp.**

**Also I would just like to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY RUPERT GRINT, YOU WONDERFUL MAN. :)**


	9. Survivors

**ix: Survivors**_  
_

_Harry's body hangs limply from Hagrid's arms and Hermione's stomach sinks; they've lost. This is the end. But then Harry transforms, his jet black hair turning bright orange, and he's longer, lankier - it's Ron! Hermione sinks to her knees in despair; it can't be. Bleeding gashes appear on his body and then the scene changes - the dagger glistens in the light from the windows, scarlet blood oozing from the blade as it passes across Hermione's vision, and Bellatrix Lestrange is leaning over her, the dagger in her hand, and she's cackling evilly as the dagger draws nearer and nearer to Hermione's throat..._

She woke up, like she always did, to find herself perfectly safe in Ron's arms, but that didn't stop her from shaking violently, trying to suppress the sobs that were threatening to take over her body.

Ron said nothing for a long time; he just held her, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead once or twice. His presence was comforting, and it brought Hermione back to reality. After a minute or so, Hermione's body finally adapted to her surroundings and she realised that she was safe, that the war was over, that she had nothing to worry about, and she managed to calm herself and return her breathing rate to normal. Her eyes adapted to the dark, and she looked up at Ron's face, seeing a saddened expression that she knew must mirror her own.

"I thought the nightmares had stopped," Ron said quietly, sighing heavily. Guilt washed over Hermione; he worried about her far too much.

"They have, mostly," she assured him. "They just come back every now and then. It's to be expected."

The war had affected different people in different ways, and for Hermione, the things that plagued her were the nightmares. In the couple of months after the war, she'd woken up every night screaming. Madam Pomfrey's potion had done nothing for her, and it had reached the point where nobody had been willing to let Hermione sleep in a room by herself. Now, two years after Voldemort's downfall, her sleep was far less disturbed - the nightmares would come once a month at the most. But each nightmare was just as distressing and horrifying as the first.

Hermione knew that some people envied her for moving on from the war so quickly, for leaving it in the past and being able to carry on with her life. Hermione was pragmatic, sensible - she hadn't spent hours going over different scenarios in her head, dwelling over how she could have saved people like some of the other survivors had. It was in the past; she couldn't change it now. But they didn't know that the images revisited Hermione in her dreams, flashing before her and forcing her to relive them. It was like she had to go through it all again every time.

She looked back to Ron, and his expression broke her heart. "You can't do anything," she told him gently.

"I know, and I hate it," he said, his hands clenching into fists. "I hate that I can't make it all go away, make it all better. I feel so... useless."

Ron had experienced problems of his own after the war - his grief over Fred, of course, and a lot of guilt from leaving them. Hermione had a hard time convincing him that she'd forgiven him, and he was far too hard on himself; that was all in the past now, and he'd more than made up for it in the final battle.

Hermione decided that this was one of these moments when actions spoke louder than words. She took his face in her hands, pulling it closer towards her, and she kissed him tenderly, savouring his response.

"I love you," she told him when they'd finally broken apart. "And you _do_ make things better. Having you here... it helps. A lot."

Ron didn't quite look as though he believed her. "Really?" he asked, grinning.

"Really," Hermione said seriously. "You underestimate yourself, Ron Weasley."

He kept grinning for a moment, but then he sighed deeply and his previous melancholy expression returned. "It's just... the war's meant to be over. Everything's meant to be okay. But what happened... it stays with us, doesn't it? We can't just forget."

"No, we can't," Hermione agreed quietly. "But we've got our lives back now, haven't we? And we've got each other. We've got other things to focus on. We don't have to dwell on the war all the time."

"That's true," Ron said sadly, "but it's hard not to. So much changed because of it."

"I know, I know," Hermione said soothingly, and she didn't quite know when the tables had turned so that she was comforting Ron, but they apparently had, so she was going to do the best job she could of it. "But it's happened, and we can't change the past. We destroyed all the time-turners in the Department of Mysteries," she added as a poor attempt at humour, and Ron smiled weakly. "So... let's make the best of what we've got."

Ron didn't say anything, but he didn't need to; Hermione knew that he understood. She rested her head on his chest. She really didn't know what she'd do without him.

* * *

**A/N: For "nightmare" on the OTP boot camp, and also for the One Hour Challenge (although I didn't quite do it in an hour, but it wasn't much longer, so please excuse any mistakes :P).**


	10. Changes

**x: Changes**

She didn't know when it changed. When did he go from being Ron Weasley, that daft yet adorable boy who she had taken for granted for so long, to Ron Weasley, the only man who could truly make her _feel_?

Sometimes, she didn't want the feelings. They were confusing, they were overwhelming and they made her feel like she was thirteen again. And she was Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age: she never thought she'd need a man in her life.

But after the war, after functioning on autopilot for so long, it was like those emotions made her feel human again. Because even the most dependable, pragmatic people can fall in love.

* * *

**A/N: This is the first thing I've had time to write this month, which makes me very sad :(**

**I hope you enjoyed it! This is for shot put on the 2012 Hogwarts Games, where the challenge was to write a 100-word drabble (this is actually 115, but it's close enough) based around our OTP. So this is what came out!**


	11. In Two Minds

**xi: In two minds**

Despite it being the end of October, it was one of the sunniest days London had seen in a long time. The sky was a brilliant blue, and there was not a cloud in sight. But there were still signs that winter was coming: leaves were starting to fall from the trees, turning to shades of red, yellow and brown. The young couple walked along the grass, fingers interlaced, as sunlight beamed down on the early morning frost, making it glitter.

"I... I kind of need to get to work soon, Ron," Hermione said tentatively, but in truth she was quite unenthusiastic about the prospect. She liked this park; it was so peaceful. It was hard to believe they were still in London, really - although you could still hear the traffic in the distance, it was a different world from the hustle and bustle of the shops a few streets away. Besides, Ron was going back to Auror training camp later that day, and this would be the last chance she'd have to see him for a while.

"Really?" Ron sounded disappointed. "Can't you stay five more minutes?"

"Probably," she said, squeezing Ron's hand, and he grinned. "This has been... nice, Ron," she told him, unable to keep a questioning note from her voice. Early morning walks were not usually Ron's style.

"Yeah, well I just thought it would be good to see each other before I go, say goodbye properly," Ron mumbled, his ears going slightly red. "I'll miss you."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously; she didn't think that sentence had provided him with reason to blush. "I'll miss you too. But you'll write, won't you? And nothing inappropriate this time," she said disapprovingly.

"Sorry," said Ron, grinning sheepishly. "'Course I will."

They continued walking for a while in companionable silence until Hermione felt Ron slowing to a stop in front of the large statue inhabiting the middle of the park.

"Hermione... there was actually a reason I wanted to see you this morning," Ron admitted, scratching his neck and looking down at his shoes. "I couldn't leave without doing this."

Hermione racked her brain for possibilities, but found none. "Doing what?"

Ron took a deep breath. "Hermione, I've loved you for as long as I can remember. You're smart, beautiful, talented... and when I'm not with you, I think about you all the time. I can't imagine being without you, and those weeks when I thought I'd never see you again were some of the worst of my life. I love you, and I know I don't deserve it, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you. What I'm trying to say is this."

He was down on one knee.

"Hermione Granger," he began, fishing a tiny box out of his pocket and opening it to reveal a glittering engagement ring, "will you marry me?"

Hermione felt like her heart had stopped. She hadn't seen that coming. She loved Ron, but they hadn't discussed marriage. They were barely out of school. It was a lifetime decision, and all her life she'd heard the same thing: _marriage is not something you rush into_. And yet she was torn - to the other, non-practical side of her brain, promising herself to Ron for the rest of her life was such a romantic idea...

It would be so easy to say yes. But she had to do the right thing. "I want to say yes, Ron, I really do, but... I don't think I can," she said slowly, and she felt terrible as she saw how his expectant face fell. "Don't get me wrong - I love you, and I'm pretty sure I do want to marry you one day, but is this really the right time?"

Ron shrugged, staring at the floor. "I just thought, if it's what both of us want... why wait?"

"Because it's a big thing, Ron," Hermione said as Ron started to get to his feet again, "and when we _do_ do it, I want to do it for the right reasons."

"Hang on, who says I'm asking you for the wrong reasons?" Ron demanded, looking offended.

Hermione sighed, wondering how to approach this delicately. "It's... it's just that the timing kind of suggests that you're asking because you're paranoid. I think you're paranoid that because I won't be where you can see me, I might go off you or something. Is there any truth in that?" she asked softly.

"Maybe a little," Ron admitted, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "It's not because I don't trust you or anything, don't worry. It's because... everyone thinks I'm worthless compared to you."

It broke Hermione's heart to hear him say that. It was nearly a year and a half after the war, and yet all the hero worship he'd received in that time still wasn't enough to rid him of his insecurities. Deciding that this was one of those moments when actions spoke louder than words, Hermione crashed her lips to his, trying her hardest to pour all the love and admiration she had for him into the moment. They were both gasping for breath when they broke apart.

"Nobody thinks you're worthless," she told him firmly. "And even if they did, all that matters is what I think. And I think you're amazing."

"Thanks," Ron said, grinning.

"No need to thank me. It's the truth," Hermione told him, beaming back. She sighed. "Look, Ron. You're not even twenty yet. And this is the beauty of the war being over: we've got our whole lives ahead of us. We don't need to rush into anything. I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you if I can," she said sincerely. "And I don't need a ring to tell me that."

Ron nodded. "I understand."

Hermione took his hand again tentatively, giving it a squeeze. "Ask again in a few years?"

"I'll hold you to that." There was a brief pause, neither of them certain of the best way to end the conversation. Then Ron said, "You're definitely going to be late for work, aren't you? Sorry."

Hermione laughed. "Yes. But I reckon I have quite a good excuse," she told him. "Still, I doubt Percy will be quite so understanding if I'm any later than this."

"Screw Percy," Ron muttered bitterly.

"Ron! He's not just your brother, you know - he's also my boss!" Hermione scolded.

But she couldn't resist lingering for a few more moments, reluctant to leave the peaceful atmosphere and the last experience of Ron's company she would have for at least a month. A tiny bit of regret was already starting to creep into her mind, but it was like she said: they had time. The future was stretched out in front of her like a blank canvas, and after the war, that didn't intimidate her anymore. It was rather exciting.

* * *

**A/N: This was originally meant to be part of one of my multichaps (She and I), but I've changed the plot of that slightly so I decided to write this as a oneshot instead. For "torn" on the OTP Boot Camp and it's also my entry for the Ron/Hermione Competition. :)**


	12. Für Elise

**xii: Für Elise**

It had been days since Kreacher left to search for the locket, and Ron couldn't remember the last time things were so tense between him, Harry and Hermione. Grimmauld Place had been unoccupied for over a year now, so there wasn't much to entertain them; all they could do was wait, and it had been a worryingly long time already. All they'd done that morning was sit in silence in the dusty drawing room. Ron was almost afraid to speak for fear of being snapped at.

"Going to get food," he mumbled, getting up, more out of the desire to do something than actual hunger.

"How can you be hungry already?" Hermione demanded. "We've only just had lunch."

Ron shrugged. "Just am." Hermione raised her eyebrows, but Ron ignored her and crossed the room, opening the door with a creak and emerging onto the staircase.

He understood why Sirius hated the house. It was so stifling. All of the curtains were open, and the sun was shining brightly outside, but none of that light seemed to be present inside. Even without all the dust, the dingy furniture and the dreary walls would still have been enough to ensure that Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was a thoroughly depressing place.

On arrival in the kitchen, Ron saw a collection of ingredients set aside - presumably Hermione's plan for dinner. He therefore searched the cupboards for something else that looked remotely edible. Most of the food they had was far past its sell-by date; he didn't know where Kreacher got his supplies from, but he sincerely hoped that he would arrive back soon and restock. Ron ended up settling for some bread that looked rather stale, but at least wasn't mouldy.

Starting back up the stairs, Ron could have sworn he could hear the faint tinkling of a piano. Hermione must have found and resurrected an old wireless or something and tuned it to the classical station. He hadn't known that Hermione had a fondness for classical music, but he supposed it suited her. As he got further up the stairs and nearer to the source of the music, he was able to distinguish the tune. It was vaguely familiar, somehow, and despite his limited exposure to classical music, he liked it. It was... soothing.

He re-entered the room and froze in the doorway. It wasn't a wireless at all. He hadn't even registered the fact that there was a piano in the room, but there it was. It wasn't huge, but it was made of dark, elegant wood and like everything else in the room it was covered in a layer of dust; it blended right in. And there was Hermione, sitting with a serene expression as her fingers glided over the keys, drawing out the soft, sweet melody. He didn't understand why he hadn't immediately come to the conclusion that she must be the one playing, because it looked like the most natural thing in the world. He watched, fascinated.

The piece came to a close, and Hermione's hands lingered in position for a split second before she relaxed them, looking as if she'd just returned from an out-of-body experience. She started slightly when she saw Ron in the doorway. He realised that he'd been gaping at her.

"What's that you were playing?" he asked, although he knew that the answer would mean nothing to him.

"Beethoven," Hermione replied, looking at him suspiciously. "Für Elise."

As he suspected, the name bore no significance to him, but he nodded anyway, hoping to cover up the fact. "Very nice," he said; that seemed like an appropriate response. "You never told me you played the piano."

Hermione shrugged. "It never came up. I haven't played in years; I had to stop lessons when I started Hogwarts, so I didn't learn for long enough to get good," she said modestly.

Ron goggled at her. "You mean you don't think that was good?" he asked incredulously.

"You're sweet," Hermione said, laughing, "but it's really basic stuff. It's the only piece I can remember without the music."

There was a pause. "Teach me," Ron demanded.

Hermione looked unsure whether to take him seriously or not. "What... now?"

"Well I don't know about you, but I don't have anything better to do."

"Okay," she said doubtfully, moving up to make room for Ron on the piano stool; their arms touched for a moment, and Ron's breath caught in his throat at how close they were.

_Stay calm_, he told himself firmly.

"Try the first bit," Hermione instructed. "Just the right hand for now." She reached over him and played the first phrase again more slowly, and Ron couldn't help admiring how elegant her hand looked rippling over the keys at the slower tempo.

She withdrew her hand, inviting Ron to have a go. "Start with your little finger on E - that's this one here," she prompted when he looked a little lost. He noticed that she was speaking in her teacher voice; she was completely adorable when she tried to teach him things.

Taking a deep breath, Ron positioned his hand above the keyboard and tried his best to mimic Hermione's movements, but he couldn't get the right notes - the jarring intervals seemed to echo around the room as he hammered at the thing.

He could tell that she was trying her best to restrain it, but Hermione let out a giggle. "Be a bit gentler," she told him patiently.

Sighing, Ron made a second attempt, but he'd completely lost track of where on the keyboard he was supposed to be, and it sounded even worse than before.

Hermione nudged his hand out of the way to demonstrate again - she made it look effortless. But the pattern of notes seemed so complex - this was seriously _basic stuff_? He was about to question this when he saw that Hermione's attention had been diverted.

She was staring towards the other side of the room, where Harry was sitting in exactly the same place as he had been all day, tossing the Snitch up into the air and catching it. It was an irritating habit; Ron wished he would stop it. Hermione seemed worried about him, though. She got up and walked towards him with barely a second glance at Ron.

They were talking, but Ron was tuned out of the conversation. Jealousy burned inside him. No doubt they were talking about another one of their theories, and of course they wouldn't bother to include Ron in the discussion. Maybe he would have something to contribute. But they didn't even bother to ask him.

* * *

**A/N: This is for "fascinated" on the OTP Boot Camp and also for the Instrument Competition. I couldn't resist writing an extended version of the scene from DH part 1 - normally it annoys me when they add things in, but being a) a musician and b) a huge Romione shipper, what's not to like about this bit? ;)**


	13. Dear Hermione

**xiii: Dear Hermione**

_Dear Hermione,_

_You'll never read this letter. I'm not going to send it - and even if I did, I doubt you'd get it because the owl probably wouldn't get through your security charms. You really are too clever for your own good sometimes. But I need to write this. Writing to you (well, imagining writing to you) is the closest I can get to telling you how sorry I really am. Because I'm so, so sorry._

_It was a burst of anger. That's all. I have them all the time, and you know I do. Sometimes I just need some air, some time away from people, so that I can sort myself out. We're always bickering, but it never takes us long to make up, does it? Well, that's not counting last year... crap, I didn't mean to bring that up. Ugh. I'd cross this out, or screw it up and start again... but what's the point? You're not even going to see it anyway._

_Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that I wanted to come back five minutes after I left. The Horcrux seems to affect me more than it does you or Harry. I left because I was tired, hungry and angry, and I needed some time. But I can't use those as excuses - this is the real world now. We're fighting Voldemort (how ridiculous is it that I struggle to even write the name?), and if I lose control, we could all be dead. Maybe it's good in a way that I left... puts you in less danger. I needed to grow up and take hold of my emotions a long time ago._

_I'm like this because I'm a jealous git. It hurts when you sit down and discuss your theories with Harry, and it shouldn't because he's your friend too and he's cleverer than me, but it hurts that I'm not good enough for you. Because I love you, Hermione, and I'm too much of a coward to admit it. It took me so long to even admit it to myself, which was what the whole Lavender thing was about. But I know it now, and I'm truly sorry for that and everything else._

_I can't even explain how much I wish I could go back. You know I'm no good at writing - in fact I know you'd be all over this with your quill, crossing things out and changing things nearly every sentence. But know that not a moment goes by when I don't worry about you, and wish I could go back in time and change everything. If only we hadn't destroyed all the Time Turners at the Ministry, eh? But seriously, I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to you. Please, stay safe. And, even though I don't deserve it, hopefully you'll be able to forgive me one day._

_All my love,_

_Ron_

* * *

**A/N: For the prompt "letter" on the OTP Boot Camp. This is quite incoherent, but it's meant to be - I think Ron would be pretty mixed up at this point. It makes me saaaaad :'(**

**Also I suck at replying to reviews even more than usual at the moment, but I'd just like to say thank you for all the lovely feedback on the last chapter because it was probably the one I most enjoyed writing. :)**


	14. A Happy Time of Year

**A/N: This oneshot is dedicated to Eighteen Inches as her gift for the Christmas Fic Exchange on HPFC. Because I'm a pro at multitasking, it's also for "jubilant" on the OTP Boot Camp, Astronomy for the School Subjects Competition and the Fanfiction Tournaments Competition, also on HPFC. I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

**xiv: A Happy Time of Year**_  
_

_Christmas Eve 1998_

That year, the inhabitants of the Burrow were getting into the Christmas spirit more than ever before. The smell of baking gingerbread wafted from the kitchen across the whole house, and what looked like most of the tinsel in England covered the walls of every room, along with the occasional sprig of mistletoe. (The charm that glued people's feet to the ground until they'd kissed someone never got old.)

The fire crackled and Christmas carols blared out of the wireless at full volume as the Weasleys and a few select friends were gathered in the sitting room, drinking mulled wine and chattering merrily. So soon after the war, the opportunity to celebrate something was seized with an even greater fervour than usual.

The only person looking subdued was Hermione. She was sitting alone in a corner, shooting the occasional longing glance towards the bookcase. Her glass of wine lay untouched on the table beside her.

"You can read a book if you want, you know," Ron told her amusedly, coming over to talk to her after he'd excused himself from the conversation that was going on at the other side of the room.

"No, no. Don't be silly. It would be antisocial," Hermione muttered, looking startled at being discovered.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "Like you're not being antisocial now?" he asked, smirking. "And are you not drinking that?" he added, gesturing towards her wineglass.

"I know... I'm sorry. I'm just tired," Hermione told him, averting his eyes. "And no, I'm not drinking it. I hate the stuff; I only took it to be polite."

"Fine. All the more for me, then," Ron shrugged, picking up her glass and taking a sip. They sat together in silence for a few more moments, isolated from the joy and laughter on the other side of the room, before Ron sighed and spoke again. "You know, you don't have to pretend with me, Hermione."

Hermione feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you mean."

"This, for one thing," he began, pointing towards the wineglass. "You didn't have to take it just for my family's benefit. You've been my best friend for years; just because you're my girlfriend now, it doesn't mean you're suddenly going to offend anyone. And more importantly, you're not telling me what's wrong."

There was a silence between the two once more, and then Hermione met Ron's eyes. "I'm sorry; you just seemed so cheerful and I didn't want to ruin your mood," she said sadly.

"Seeing you upset ruins my mood anyway."

Hermione smiled despite herself. "Well... it's just that this feels weird. Everyone just looks so _happy_. Even George."

It was true - George had unsurprisingly taken the loss of his twin hard, and that evening there had been genuine smiles on George's face, and his first real attempts to crack jokes since Fred's death. "It's Christmas," Ron said simply. "It's a happy time of year."

"Not always. Harry and I were nearly killed in Godric's Hollow on Christmas Eve last year. I don't recall being particularly happy then," she said quietly.

Ron looked over towards where Harry was playing an energetic game of Exploding Snap with Ginny, Percy and Bill. He felt a stab of guilt when Hermione said 'Harry and I'; he'd abandoned them, and they could have died. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," he said regretfully. "I'm so sorry for leaving. I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you two."

Hermione shook her head. "It's okay, Ron - we've talked about this. There's no need to apologise again. And there's nothing you could have done against that snake, anyway."

"I still feel guilty, though. If that's the memory you associate with Christmas... I'd better make up for it and make sure this is the best Christmas we've ever had," he declared. "Anyway, think about some of the happy memories of Christmas - that time Fred and George stuffed a gnome into a fairy dress and stuck it on top of the tree, that time Kreacher gave Harry a parcel full of maggots..."

"...that time Lavender gave Ron a necklace saying 'sweetheart' on it," Harry chimed in as he, Ginny, George, Charlie and Luna came over to join them.

Ron glared at him, but Hermione just laughed. "That really was revolting," Ron said, almost shuddering at the memory.

"So what are you lovebirds doing all cosied up in the corner, eh?" George asked loudly, winking animatedly. "Give 'er a kiss for us, Ronniekins," he said, withdrawing some mistletoe from his pocket and holding it over their heads despite their protests.

Feeling himself going slightly red, Ron hastily pressed his lips to Hermione's, just hoping to do enough to get rid of the charm and dissipate their audience, but once there he found himself not wanting to let go.

There were assorted whoops and cheers and moans of "Get a room!" and when they finally broke apart, Hermione was smiling. Maybe a big family Christmas was exactly what she needed.


	15. Facing Fears

**xv: Facing Fears**

"DADDY!"

The voice of four-year-old Hugo echoed around the bathroom and carried downstairs to where Ron was reading one of his more boring work reports. Not at all sorry to be abandoning it, he leaped up and strode across the room, ignoring Hermione's disapproving look.

Rose was walking past the bathroom as Ron reached the top of the stairs. "Get Mum instead - there's no point in asking Daddy to get rid of that," she told her brother, smirking.

"What could there possibly be that your mother could sort out and I couldn't?" Ron asked indignantly, coming along the corridor to meet them.

"A _spider_," Rose said, sniggering, and Ron's heart sank. "Daddy's _terrified_ of them. Even more than you, Hugo."

Ron couldn't believe that he was being made fun of by a six-year-old. Rose stood there watching as Ron took a deep breath. He had two choices. He could go and get Hermione, who would get rid of the spider in an instant, but then he would never hear the end of it, from her _or_ his kids. Alternatively, he could go in there, face his fears and retain his dignity.

He swallowed. "Don't be so ridiculous," he said, pushing past Rose and entering the bathroom, where Hugo was cowering in a corner of the bathtub. It was hardly going to be an Aragog. All he had to do was pick up a tiny spider and take it out into the garden. "Where is it, Hugo?"

Hugo pointed towards the far corner of the ceiling, where a minuscule spider was spinning a web. Ron shuddered. Even the tiny ones had those horrible skittering movements.

_How shall I do this?_ he thought reluctantly. Then he had a brainwave. "I'll be right back," he told Hugo. "I'll just get my broom to reach up and squash it with."

"No!" Rose protested vehemently from the other end of the corridor. "What has it ever done to you? You can't just kill it!"

Not for the first time, Ron realised how remarkably similar Rose was to her mother - Hermione would have said exactly the same. He shook his head exasperatedly. "I can understand house elves, but not bloody spiders," he muttered under his breath. "Fine," he said to Rose. "What do you want me to do with it, then?"

Rose thought for a moment. "Well, if you won't just leave it in peace where it is—" she glared at Hugo "—then take it out to the garden."

"Okay," Ron said reluctantly. Taking it out to the garden would involve being around it for a larger amount of time. "How do I get at it?"

Rose looked at him like he was stupid. "Use magic?"

Of course. He was completely losing his head. Over a spider._ Deep breaths_. He tried to figure out the best way to do it. If he cast a spell to break the web, the spider would probably fall down and he could reach it, pick it up and carry it outside. Or alternatively he could levitate it so that he didn't have to touch it. But then he'd still see it floating around...

"Can't you just ignore it?" Ron asked Hugo desperately. "It's only little. And you wanted a pet. Maybe it can be your pet! I'm sure spiders are very... friendly," Ron said, wincing.

Both of his children looked at him like he was from another planet.

"Didn't think so... levitating it is," he told himself, shuddering, but contenting himself with the thought of telling Hermione he'd done it. "Listen, I'll give you both three Sickles if you don't tell your mother that I was going to kill it," he said quickly.

Hugo looked ecstatic, while Rose whined, "Only three Sickles?"

"Four, then," Ron compromised, and Rose looked satisfied. "Right... ready?" he asked them, more for his own benefit than theirs - the image of the spider's legs flailing as he levitated it made him feel slightly queasy. Hugo nodded eagerly.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," he said, and trying his best to look at the spider as little as possible, he walked _very_ briskly and levitated it along the corridor, down the stairs and out of the back door.

"What did Hugo want?" Hermione asked as Ron re-entered the sitting room. "I was just about to get him out of the bath, actually - he's been in there for ages."

"Oh, just for me to get rid of a spider from the bathroom," Ron told her nonchalantly.

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "And you did?"

"Of course I did. It was hardly an Aragog," Ron said, echoing his thoughts from earlier. "I just levitated it out of the back door into the garden."

"Really? You didn't try and kill it?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"No!"

A smile spread onto Hermione's face. "I'm proud of you, Ron. It's great that you're not letting yourself pass your irrational fears onto the children."

"Hey!" Ron protested indignantly. "It's not irrational! If you'd seen your teddy transform into a big hairy spider at the age of three, you'd be traumatised too!"

She snorted. "Ron, we've definitely seen more traumatising things than that in our time."

"Maybe for you," Ron muttered, although he knew how stupid it was.

"If you say so," said Hermione, amused. "Shouldn't you get back to that report? Or are you too _traumatised_?" she teased.

Ron scowled. First he was being mocked by his six-year-old daughter, and now his wife. Next time Hermione complained about the decision between arranging her books in order of title or size, he resolved that he would have a lot of fun teasing her.

* * *

**A/N: Just a little silly one for you, since I've decided I write too much serious stuff. :) For the OTP Boot Camp (prompt: fear) and the Weekly Shipping Challenge.**

**I've had a lot going on in the last few months, hence the lack of writing you've been getting from me, but looking at the review count and all the lovely comments on this story in particular keeps me wanting to write, so endless thanks for that. *love***


	16. Letting Go

**xvi: Letting Go**

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you still awake?"

"Obviously," he said, rolling his eyes even though he knew that Hermione wouldn't be able to see them in the dark. She'd been tossing and turning all night, so sleep was evading him.

"Oh. Stupid question. Sorry."

Ron smiled to himself. She was really quite endearing when she was like this. "What is it, then?"

"Don't laugh. Are you _sure_ Rose has everything she needs?" she asked agitatedly.

He managed to refrain from groaning. "I'm sure she has. We can double check in the morning. And if it turns out she's forgotten something, we can just owl it to her."

Hermione sighed. "Of course we can. Sorry. I can't help worrying. I remember being completely exasperated when my mum was like this before I went to Hogwarts, but now I understand how she felt. And it must have been even worse for her; she'd only just found out that magic exists."

"Hermione," Ron said firmly, "listen. Our Rosie's a bloody genius. She'll be fine. We were fine, and we had the whole You-Know-Who thing to worry about."

She snorted, momentarily distracted. "Seriously, Ron? You _still_ can't say his name? It's been nineteen years."

"Sorry! I was terrified of it for eighteen years; it's hard to get rid of the habit," he said defensively. "You were brought up by Muggles. It's hard for you to understand."

"Whatever," Hermione said, dismissing the subject; she couldn't see the point in arguing over it. "But I'm still worried about her. What if she lets her temper get her into trouble?"

"Hey, my temper didn't get me into trouble! Much," he amended - though he couldn't see Hermione properly, he knew that she'd be glaring at him. Snape and McGonagall had never been fans of Ron's attitude. "And Rosie's cleverer than me; the teachers will fall in love with her straight away. Promise."

"I hope so," she said, snuggling up to Ron and sighing. "I'll miss her. It'll be so quiet with only us and Hugo in the house. He's never been much of a talker."

Ron laughed. "Maybe without Rose here he'll get a chance to get a word in edgeways. And she'll be back before we know it."

"Really?"

"Really. Think how quickly Christmas came around when we were at Hogwarts."

"I... yeah. I suppose so," she said reluctantly. "But I'm her mother. You know how it is. It's hard to let go."

"I know it is. It's hard for me, too," Ron admitted; Rose had always been a Daddy's girl. "But she can look after herself, I'm sure. Try and sleep now?" he suggested.

"Okay," Hermione agreed, sounding like she was a little girl again. Ron smiled to himself once again.

But despite his reassurances, she didn't sleep a wink that night.

* * *

**A/N: For the prompt "agitated" on the OTP boot camp. Just a little idea that came to me while I was on a train journey this morning... hopefully I'll have time to write a longer one soonish. :)**


	17. Flying Lessons

**For _brazensers_**

* * *

**xvii: Flying Lessons**

_August 1998_

It was the most beautiful day there had been in a long time. The nasty heat wave finally seemed to be behind them, and, surprisingly for British summers, there was no sign of torrential rain as yet. The sun was shining and Hermione could feel a gentle breeze coming in through the open window as she leaned against Ron's legs on the sofa, re-reading _Hogwarts: A History_ for what must have been the hundredth time.

She used to find it a bit disconcerting when Ron watched her reading. The feel of his eyes on her would make her blush, and she'd find it difficult to focus on the words on the page in front of her. She was used to being enveloped into a world of her own when she read, and initially, letting someone else into that world was a strange concept. But he told her a couple of months ago that he'd always loved to watch her reading, so she'd got used to the feeling. In fact, she couldn't recall many other moments in her life when she'd felt so utterly relaxed.

Ron must have noticed her shift in focus, because he spoke. "How many times must you have read that book now?" he demanded. "You must know it off by heart. I still don't understand why you need to read it again."

"I don't know," Hermione said, shaking her head exasperatedly, but she was smiling. Sensitive as Ron had become over the past few months, this was the sort of thing he'd never understand. "It's kind of... soothing. I can't really explain."

"Each to their own, I guess," Ron mumbled.

"You should read it," Hermione recommended as she had many times before. "I know you didn't like history, but it's actually a really interesting read. Bathilda Bagshot is much less dull than Professor Binns."

"I'd rather read Percy's cauldron bottom report than anything that was written by Professor Binns," Ron declared. "_Anyone_ is less dull than him."

Hermione chuckled. She knew that Ron would never read _Hogwarts: A History_, no matter what she said, but trying to persuade him was quite entertaining. "Seriously, though, Ron, I don't understand why you hated the subject so much. It's all about blood and gore and goblin wars... you're a boy. That should be right up your street."

"Well... I _suppose_ I could give it a go," Ron said doubtfully.

"Ron. It's fine. I'm only teasing," she said, rolling her eyes. "You don't have to read it if you don't want to."

"No. I will," he told her determinedly. "You never know, I might actually enjoy it."

"Okay then. You can have it after I've finished with it, then," Hermione offered. She sincerely doubted that he'd get past the first chapter, but it was sweet that he was making an effort.

She'd just gone back to reading the chapter on the Triwizard Tournament when Ginny popped her head around the door, Harry just behind her.

"Hey. We were thinking about going up to the orchard for a game of Quidditch after lunch - want to come?" Ginny invited.

"Sure!" Ron agreed enthusiastically, and Hermione's heart sank. "See you then."

Hermione noticed that the question was clearly directed at Ron and not her. Not that this was a surprise; Hermione had declined to play Quidditch with the others for the last two summers. But, childish as she felt, she kind of resented having her boyfriend taken away from her for an afternoon without even being invited.

"So, you reckon you will have finished that book by the time we get back?" Ron asked teasingly as Harry and Ginny left the room.

"Who says I'm not coming with you?"

Ron looked slightly taken aback. "Oh… you really want to come? But I thought you hated Quidditch."

"I don't hate Quidditch," Hermione told him indignantly. "I'm not _obsessed_ with it like you, Harry and Ginny are, but I've never hated it."

"So why haven't you played with us for years, then?"

Hermione cringed. It was so stupid. "Honestly? I… I started to realise my feelings for you, and I felt self-conscious playing with you there. I'm useless at Quidditch."

"You're not useless," Ron insisted, but he didn't sound convinced.

"I am," she laughed, "but it's okay. You can be useless at something and still enjoy it. It just made me nervous, because you're so good. I didn't want to make a fool of myself."

"Hey, I'm not _that_ good. Quidditch is easy, anyone can be as good as I am!"

"Rubbish. You may think that, but I think Potions is easy, and I don't think you'd agree with that assessment," Hermione pointed out, laughing. "But anyway, I want to spend time with you. If you like Quidditch so much, there must be something enjoyable about it. I've just never really been comfortable on a broom."

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "If you want, we could go out there now, and I could give you some tips on flying. Only if you want to," he added hurriedly.

She hesitated for a second; she'd always been touchy about her flying abilities, since it was the only thing (well, other than chess and eating) that Ron was better at than her. But it would absolutely ridiculous not to accept his offer because of pride – she'd given him plenty of help with his schoolwork over the years. "Why not?"

* * *

"Are you sure about this, Hermione?" Ron asked ten minutes later, as they rummaged through the pile of decaying broomsticks in the shed, trying to find a decent one.

"Of course I am. You might even have something useful to say, for once," she teased, and he shoved her playfully.

"Shut up, you. How about this one?" he asked, pulling an old broom with _Cleansweep_ inscribed on its side from the pile. "These old things weren't too bad."

"I don't really know the difference, to be honest," Hermione admitted as they stepped out of the shed into the sunshine.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, Cleansweeps are good. The old ones are a bit slow and unresponsive, but they're better than those other ancient old things," he said, gesticulating back into the shed.

"Shall we get this over with, then?" For some reason, Hermione was more nervous than she'd ever been around Ron. But he was her boyfriend – she didn't need to prove anything to him.

"Why not?" asked Ron, and they both mounted their brooms and kicked off from the ground.

Hermione felt the familiar jumpy feeling in her stomach as they rose and the ground got gradually further and further away. The world below her began to swim a little; she could see her arms shaking as she gripped tightly. _Breathe_, she told herself. _Relax. Everything will be fine._

"Try putting your hands a little further up," Ron called from next to her. "It'll make your balance better."

She felt as though she'd go tumbling back down to the ground if she let go, but she managed to slide her hands higher with only the slightest swerve of the broomstick. Ron was right, actually; her weight had shifted slightly, and she suddenly felt a lot more stable.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much," Hermione told him gratefully. She felt much more confident than usual; some of the alarming wobbles that she was accustomed to had been eliminated due to her shift in position. She started to breathe easier, and soon felt quite at ease flying laps of the orchard with Ron at her side.

"Try this," Ron instructed, swerving elegantly (yes, he could be elegant) as he reached the end of the field.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You really expect me to do that?"

"Why not?" he demanded. "It's fun!"

She snorted, but attempted a weird kind of loop-the-loop which wasn't at all what Ron had just done. The broom jerked up frighteningly and Ron laughed at the expression on Hermione's face.

Once she'd regained her composure, Hermione reflected. It was actually a rather nice feeling, flying, once you got over the initial instability. The wind rushed through her hair, and as she watched Ron perform more ridiculous-looking tricks, she really felt alive.

* * *

**A/N: A belated birthday present for _brazensers._ I hope you enjoyed it and had a lovely birthday, dear!**

**Also for some other challenges - Key Signature Competition: A major (HPFC), OTP Boot Camp Challenge: playful (HPFC), Happy OTP Challenge (RoseScorpius Fans).**


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